Door Stays Open
by yousopugly
Summary: The first time Burt walks in on Kurt and Blaine making out. His problem? The door wasn't open.


Kurt sighed contentedly as Blaine slowly kissed his way up his neck, making adorable little nuzzling noises. When he reached his face again, he pulled back slightly, his eyes wide and dark as he looked at Kurt.

"Did I ever mention how much I love your neck?" Blaine asked nonchalantly, rolling them over slightly so that he was completely on top of Kurt, their legs tangled together.

"You might have, I can't really remember…" Kurt tried to mirror Blaine's offhand tone but his shallow breathing really didn't help. Blaine grinned widely before pressing another kiss to Kurt's lips. Kurt felt another groan leave his throat and he deepened the kiss, loving the way Blaine's fingers were stroking at the inch of exposed flesh at his hips as he pulled him impossibly closer. He tangled his fingers in Blaine's hair and gave up trying to suppress his moans as he enjoyed the sensations wash over him. He loved making out with Blaine. In fact, he was quite sure he could lie here forever with the feel of Blaine against him, and the taste of Blaine on his tongue and his _smell_—

"Ahem!" The unnaturally loud cough made them both jump and Blaine quickly rolled off Kurt to see—oh, crap—Burt stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and his arms folded across his chest. When the hell had the door opened?

"Dad!" Kurt stammered, blushing at how high his voice had gone.

"I think both of you had better go back upstairs now." Burt's voice was dangerously calm. Crap, Blaine was dead. Kurt got up very quietly, his eyes fixed on his dad. He then very pointedly took Blaine's hand, causing his eyes to widen as he shot Kurt an obvious 'aren't we already completely screwed?' look. Kurt just offered him a small, hopefully comforting smile, as he led them both up the stairs behind his dad. He didn't bother to close the door; not much point now that they were no longer lying on the bed, tongues in each other's mouths and—right, ok, Kurt seriously needed to get a grip; if he turned any redder he was sure he'd have an aneurism or something. Plus, he would feel incredibly guilty about leaving Blaine alone to face his father who was now wordlessly gesturing them into the living room.

Blaine finally managed to slip his hand out of Kurt's and sat down on the furthest side of the couch, trying so hard to put space between them that he was practically on the armrest. Kurt rolled his eyes and made a point of shuffling nearer until they were next to each other, though even he knew better than to press their thighs together completely. Burt cleared his throat again as he lowered himself into his favourite armchair in front of the TV. He turned it on and idly began flicking through channels until he found some baseball game to settle on. Kurt could practically feel Blaine vibrating with nervous energy next to him as his eyes flicked between Kurt and his dad. He actually jumped slightly when Burt finally spoke.

"I seem to remember a rule was agreed to not that long ago about certain…_arrangements_ that were to be followed when Blaine was here."

"I wouldn't say _agreed_—" Kurt began but Burt cut over him.

"I think it had something to do with your bedroom door staying open."

"Well, technically—"

"Funny 'cause I'm pretty sure I had to turn the handle to open it which kinda made me think it was shut."

"OK, fine, so maybe we got a little carried away…"

Burt snorted as his eyes returned momentarily to the TV, where one of the teams had just scored. For a moment there was only the sounds of cheering and then Blaine seemingly couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"Sir, I'm sorry if we were out of line earlier. We should've respected your rules and there's no excuse, really, but I just wanted to say it was mostly my fault, not Kurt's, so don't be mad at him. I mean, I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, kid, take it easy for a sec," Burt interrupted his rambling as Kurt silently marvelled at how amazingly selfless his boyfriend was, willing to take the blame despite being scared shitless of his dad. "Let's get one thing clear; I'm not mad at either of you, ok? I was young once, remember. I know how it is. In fact, when I first met Elizabeth, we'd go at it for hours."

"Dad, please." Kurt squirmed uncomfortably at the mental image as Blaine grinned.

"Alright, alright. I'm just saying, I'd be worried if you weren't looking for a little _alone_ time," Kurt groaned again, pressing his face into Blaine's shoulder in mortification. "And I'd rather it was here than in some shady parking lot. But both of you need to realise that there are other people living in this house and they don't appreciate walking in on that."

Kurt looked up again at that.

"Wait, wait, wait. So you want us to be more private so you, Carole and Finn don't walk in on us, yet you were the one who invented the 'door-stays-open' rule. Isn't that a little contradictory?"

Burt rolled his eyes. "I _meant_ you might want to make sure there's no chance of being interrupted first. The open-door rule still stands."

"But how can we—" Burt stood up and turned the TV off as a commercial break began.

"I'm really gonna have to spell this out for you, hey kid?" Kurt frowned at his dad. "How about you arrange your little one on one times for when you know no one's gonna be home?" Kurt's mouth fell open as he realised what his dad meant.

"You mean you're allowing us to…You don't mind if we….?"

"Kurt, I trust you," He turned back to Blaine. "Both of you and I'm not stupid, you're gonna make out either way. I'd rather you were here, safe. Besides, I can annoy the hell out of you by coming home early every day now. Oh, and Kurt we're going out to dinner at Breadsticks later. You're welcome to join Blaine if you don't have any other plans?" With that, he left the room and a few seconds later the unmistakable sound of the fridge door opening could be heard.

"I don't know if I'm more freaked out by the fact that I'm not grounded or the fact that I just heard my dad say 'make out'." Kurt tilted his head back against the couch as Blaine huffed out a laugh.

"I'm just glad I'm still alive."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad he didn't go all protective-father on me and ban you from being alone with me or something."

"That too. To be honest, I'd rather he'd got his shotgun out than banned me from the house."

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the full implication of Blaine's words. _He'd rather get shot than not see me_, Kurt thought dazedly. Ok, maybe that was a slight exaggeration but the idea still made his heart thump harder in his chest. God, he was so in love with Blaine.

"Do you want to come for dinner later?" He asked, quickly changing the subject before he did something stupid like voice his feelings.

"Yeah, I mean if it's ok with you? I don't want to intrude…"

"No, you're right, I don't want to spend more time with my gorgeous boyfriend. I don't know where my dad got that idea from."

Blaine pouted. "Possibly when he walked in on us making out about ten minutes ago."

"Nah, that can't be it. He knows how much I loathe your company."

"How you wound me, Kurt." Blaine brought a hand to his heart and fell backwards on to the arm of the couch dramatically. "But do you know how I know you're lying?"

"How?"

"Because you just said yourself; I'm gorgeous." Blaine grinned like a maniac, entirely too pleased with himself. Kurt just had to lean forward and mumble "Yeah, you are," before kissing the smug look off his face. They kissed languidly for a few minutes, neither of them wanting to get carried away, but equally unwilling to part, until the living room door being pointedly banged into the wall made them break apart.

Burt smirked as he sat down, rolling his eyes good naturedly as Kurt extended his hands to Blaine, pulling him off the couch and tugging him out the room, back down to the basement, with a hasty "We're going to watch a movie" thrown over his shoulder.

"Door stays open!" Burt shouted after them, satisfied when he heard Kurt's loud groan. Geez, he was going to have so much fun over the next few months.


End file.
